


Here's Lookin' at You, Kid

by Anonymous



Category: Bon Appétit Test Kitchen (Web Series), Chef RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:54:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25758436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Brad makes references to a movie Claire has never seen, and then he takes her to see it at a drive-in movie theatre.
Relationships: Brad Leone/Claire Saffitz
Comments: 5
Kudos: 14
Collections: Anonymous





	Here's Lookin' at You, Kid

“What are you looking at?” Claire said, play-angry, when she met Brad’s stare with a challenging gaze. 

Brad smiled and shook his head at her from across the dinner table. “Just lookin’ at ya.” 

Claire scrunched her mouth up and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Okay, well, I would appreciate it if you would look away briefly because I’m going to shovel this whole thing of pasta into my mouth in the next thirty seconds and it’s gonna get ugly.” 

Brad chuckled. “Claire, I swear, the list of things you could do to get me to break up with you is, like, two things long, and that’s not one of ‘em.” But he acquiesced, choosing to smile down at his own plate instead. Claire mirrored his movement, stifling her own grin by staring down at the pasta before commencing the shoveling. 

Claire thought a lot about Brad in general, but she especially liked running through every one of their interactions on a daily basis. At night, before succumbing to the pull of sleep, she would walk through the day she just had in her head, starting with the first kiss Brad gave her that morning, while they were still tangled in her sheets. 

Then she’d dwell on their morning routine, how they’d dance around each other across the space of her shoebox apartment, limbs knocking into each other in the bathroom and the kitchen. She thought about the glances shot furtively over the rims of coffee cups, the morning newspapers unfolded, the delicate spreading of butter on toast prepared just how they liked it. 

Claire counted every lingering touch, every chaste kiss, every shared gaze, from their first hour in the test kitchen to their last, and then she would draw out the night they spent together in her head. It was her way of comforting herself to sleep: this relationship had nested a home in the core of her heart, and she collected every shining treasure, however small, that contributed to its growth. It was the biggest thing—the only thing, she’d dare say—that brought peace to her mind when it was time to sleep.

This private ritual of hers was why she caught on quickly to the fact that “Lookin’ at you” was Brad’s standard response whenever she asked about a lingering stare. Claire would catch Brad, as she just had, staring at her over dinner, or from across the test kitchen, or after sex, and Brad’s eyes would be filled with such warmth and tenderness that Claire couldn’t help herself but ask why it was there. 

“Can I help you?” she’d ask playfully, or “You okay?”, or, sometimes, a simple “Yes?” would suffice. And always, Brad’s response would be some variation of that phrase—”Lookin’ at you,” as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, as if it were the only thing he would rather do right now or next week or for the next thousand years. 

Claire did not understand the reference until, during one of their Friday night movie dates, Brad took her to a screening of _Casablanca_. 

Brad had wheedled her into letting him take her up north a ways, to Warwick, New York. He’d spun tales of driving up here with his friends when each of them got their licenses and seeing a movie at the drive-in, the only one for miles, and then speeding down Clinton Road on the way home like the Jersey Devil himself was chasing them. It was something of a rite of passage, he said, and she was touched that he wanted to fold her in to such a time-honored tradition. 

It was an hour and change to get there from her apartment in the Upper West Side, but Brad had surprised her with a treasure trove of road snacks for them to share. On the way up, he regaled her with some of his lesser-known stories, the scary ones that led to scarred skin or knocked out teeth or ruined relationships. His tales would wind and twist like the inroads that led them to the drive-in, and she watched as he navigated them both with practiced ease. 

Driving up to the theatre was like emerging from a dark, wooded road and ending up in 1955. The signs were hand-painted, old-fashioned, and there was a squat yellow building where the concessions were being sold. Brad rolled to a stop in front of the ticket booth and paid for their entry. A guide walked them to the next available parking space, which was in the second row back from the screen. Claire looked back at all the rows behind them, each one carved into the slope of the hill like rice paddies made of gravel.

“Lot of firsts for me tonight,” she mused.

Brad looked at her curiously after he threw the car into park. “What, you’ve never been to a drive-in?” 

Claire looked at him, surprised, like she hadn’t expected him to respond to a thought she’d voiced out loud. “Well. I think when I was really young, my parents must have taken me. I know there were drive-ins near where I grew up in Missouri but…” 

“But?” 

She grimaced. “I just. By the time I would have been old enough to drive out with friends or...you know, a significant other, I didn’t have room in my schedule anymore. I was so hell-bent on graduating at the top of my class at Clayton High, getting into Harvard, and eventually becoming a renowned historian and academic. I had my whole life planned out. And things like that—I guess I didn’t think they were so important at the time.” She stared at her lap and rubbed the dark spots that old burns had left behind on her hands. “I was...a little too serious back then, I think. If I could go back and tell myself one thing, it’d be to just. Relax.” 

Brad nodded. “Well, Claire, I mean I can’t say I can bring you back to your high school days, but. You can relax. With me. You know, if you want.” He scratched the back of his head like a reflex. 

Claire smiled at him. “I know, Brad. Thank you.” 

He coughed and adjusted his hat. “And, you _know_ , there’s a first time for everything. I’m glad I could introduce you to the, uh. The magic of drive-in cinema....’n all that.” 

She chuckled and shook her head at him. “Yeah. I feel like you blasted me Marty McFly-style back to the fifties so you could give me the full experience.” 

“Of course. And we got an old movie to watch tonight, too, so. Feel like all that’s left is if I wore my high school varsity jacket and you were in, like, a poodle skirt or somethin’,” he said. 

“Actually, now that I think about it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen this movie,” Claire said, cocking her head thoughtfully at the screen.

“You never seen _Casablanca_ , Claire? I thought you loved romance movies,” Brad said incredulously.

Claire shrugged. “I mean. I like the Nora Ephron ones from the nineties. Guess I just never got into classic old movies.” 

“ _Alright_ , yeah, that’ll explain why you haven’t seen any of Tom Berenger’s movies.”

She laughed. “I don’t know that his movies are _classic_ , per say, but sure.”

He smiled and rolled his eyes. “Wanna grab the movie snacks from the backseat?” Brad asked. 

Claire paused. “Wait, there’s more?” 

“Uh, duh? Road snacks and movie snacks—totally different genres of snack, Claire.” 

She unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to look at the floor behind her seat, where, sure enough, she found a tote that she’d missed earlier. She dragged it up into her lap, but paused before she opened the snap.

“Are they gonna play previews?” she asked.

He cocked his head. “Probably not. Why, is it not _good practice_ to snack while waiting for a movie to start?” Brad shot back with a wry smile.

Claire shot him a withering look. “No, I just didn’t wanna burn through the popcorn before the movie even started.”

Brad laughed. “I packed more than enough for the movie, I promise. The rest is in the trunk. I know you a little better than that.” 

Claire offered him a fond smile and he drank it up for a moment before hoisting the tote up and setting it on the arm rest between them. Claire predictably tore straight into the bag of Twizzlers while Brad took the bag of M&Ms and one of the bags of homemade popcorn. He opened them both and shook the M&Ms into the popcorn before shaking the bag. Brad looked up when he heard the scandalized little gasp that escaped Claire’s mouth.

“What are you _doing?_ ” Claire asked, pulling his licorice closer to her chest protectively.

“Sweet and salty. It’s really good!” Brad said, grabbing a few pieces of popcorn and an M&M and shoving them into his mouth all at once. Claire let out another aggrieved noise.

“Oh my god, Brad.”

Brad chuckled and grabbed another small handful. “Try it,” he said, before moving to feed Claire. Claire pushed her head back against the window, instinctively dodging the abomination that was her boyfriend’s movie snack creation. Brad edged closer, leaning around the bag of food to get his handful of popcorn and candy closer to Claire’s face. “Come on, Claire.” 

Claire hesitated and relaxed a bit before she tentatively opened her mouth to let Brad feed her.  
Brad dropped a few pieces of chocolate and popcorn onto Claire’s tongue. She chewed thoughtfully for a moment and then wrinkled her nose before swallowing dramatically. Brad smiled and raised his eyebrows at her, waiting for a reaction.

“That...actually wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. But I don’t know how you can eat a whole bag of that,” Claire said. Brad chuckled.

“Not a fan of sweet and salty together, huh?” 

Claire made a face. “Popcorn is supposed to be salty and buttery, Brad! That’s what it was made for!” 

“Remind me to never order a Hawaiian pizza in front of you.”

“Oh my god. I’m breaking up with you.”

Brad shot her a kicked puppy look, but something playful danced behind his eyes. “Are you?” 

Claire paused, then a smile crept across her face. “No...but you’re on thin ice.” 

The field lit up then as the opening credits rolled. Brad tuned the car radio to the right station, and the booming orchestral arrangement that accompanied the credits blared through the car speakers. Claire, predictably, talked while the screen cycled through the names of every cast and crew member and producer involved in making the film, so much so that she missed the first couple of minutes of the actual movie. Claire rattled on about how much better it is that movies these days save the credits for the end and don’t force audiences to sit through them in the beginning, and Brad, painfully aware of how much of the beginning of the movie they were missing, leaned over to silence Claire with his mouth. He broke the kiss quickly but stayed in Claire’s space to whisper, “Claire? Watch the movie.” 

Claire tried, albeit unsuccessfully, to hide how that one move made her feel like fireworks were exploding on her skin, and her mouth twisted with the effort of it. Brad stifled his own grin at that, secretly thrilled that that was all it took to make Claire go all soft-boned.

When Sam, the pianist in the film, started playing “As Time Goes By,” Claire let out an excited little gasp in spite of herself. Brad looked over at her curiously. “This song was in _Sleepless in Seattle!_ ” Claire enthused, “and so was the globe thing in the beginning! I didn’t know that was a reference!” 

Brad laughed, grabbing Claire’s hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles before settling their twined fingers on the arm rest between them.

As the scenes of Rick and Ilsa’s life in Paris splashed across the illuminated white sheet and the famous line, “Here’s lookin’ at you, kid,” left Humphrey Bogart’s lips, Claire squeezed Brad’s hand and let out a soft “Oh.” 

Brad looked over in askance, his thumb mindlessly rubbing circles into the skin of her hand. Claire was looking at him with the warmest, fondest expression. “This is where that line is from?” she asked. 

“What line?” Brad replied, his thumb continuing in its soothing movements. He did know what Claire was referring to, but he didn’t think she would have caught on so quickly. She let out a frustrated huff.

“Whenever I catch you staring and I ask you what you’re doing, you’re always just like, ‘Oh, lookin’ at you.’ Is this where you got it?” Claire said. 

Brad offered her a grin, so big and bright it was like looking straight at the sun. “I may have nicked a line from this movie, yeah,” he replied shyly. 

Brad didn’t know how Claire could manipulate her features the way she could, but she looked impossibly softer and more touched than she had a second ago. Claire cupped Brad’s jaw and leaned in, bringing him in for a lingering kiss that shot Brad back to that first night together in Denver, and Brad was so overwhelmed with affection that he found himself struggling to breathe. It was things like this that reminded him why they were together in the first place. 

They could bicker over ingredient orders or counter space in the test kitchen, or Brad could lose his patience dealing with Claire when she was more on the sour side of half-sour, and while all of that only served to make their life together more colourful, Brad lived for the moments when Claire showed him how much she loved him. How much she loved all the little things Brad did for her, like order a custom dowel for her workstation, or pack extra snacks for a movie, or slip some cheesy dialogue into everyday interactions. And sometimes, during moments like this, Claire would look at him like she’d never seen the sky before and suddenly he was manifesting it for her, and Brad would know, beyond the shadow of a doubt, how deeply loved he was, too. 

“I love you,” Brad whispered into Claire’s mouth, overcome. Claire deepened the kiss in response, her fingers gliding into Brad’s hair and pulling him ever closer. They struggled over the gearshift and the arm rest, breaths coming hot and shallow.

“Seems you liked the taste of that M&M popcorn more than you let on,” Brad said between kisses. 

“Tastes better in your mouth than in mine,” Claire said nonchalantly, but the wicked glint in her eyes gave her away.

“ _Jesus Christ,_ ” Brad groaned, pulling her closer by the back of her head. Claire tried inelegantly to swing a leg over so she’d end up in Brad’s lap, and she landed with a huff, but she toppled the food bag over in the process, spilling chocolate bars and popcorn everywhere.

“Shit,” Claire whispered, pressing their foreheads together. Brad chuckled and gave her a kiss, and another, and another. 

Finally, Brad leaned back against his headrest and looked into her eyes. “As much as I want to do this with you right now, the idea of some pervs watching us instead of the movie is really killing my buzz, anyway,” he said. Claire sighed and nodded. She pressed another kiss to Brad’s mouth before crawling back over to the passenger’s seat. 

Claire brushed the popcorn off the seat, murmuring something about needing to get the car cleaned anyway, and finally settled in. Her hand reached out almost instinctively to find Brad’s, and they enjoyed what was left of the movie in comfortable silence. 

The drive home was quiet, peaceful even. Every once in a while, Brad would see a landmark that reminded him of a story that he’d forgotten to tell her on the way up, and she’d listen intently while she played with his hand.

When he finally slowed to a stop in front of her apartment to drop her off, it was well after dark, and her neighbourhood had fallen into the familiar silence of night. 

“Hey,” Brad said as Claire began unbuckling her seatbelt. He tipped her chin up with his finger and leaned in close. “Here’s lookin at you, kid,” he said quietly before he gave her a soft, slow kiss. She hummed in delight. 

“Come upstairs? You can park on the street,” she suggested, tangling her fingers into the front of his flannel. 

“I gotta get home. Early flight to Alaska tomorrow.” 

“Agh, that’s right,” she said, pulling a frown. He kissed the tip of her nose. 

“I’ll be back on Wednesday.”

She nodded and gave him one more kiss before slipping out of the car. Just as she shut the car door behind her, she turned and knocked on the window. 

“Hey Brad?”

Brad rolled it down, curious.

“I think this is the beginning of a beautiful relationship,” she said cheekily. 

He laughed and shooed her off. “Go inside, you goof. I love you.” 

“I love _you_ ,” she said, before turning back towards her stoop and letting herself into her building.

**Author's Note:**

> this fic brought to you by a certified jersey girl turned new yorker. if you want some spooks, read about clinton road, new jersey. 
> 
> if this feels familiar, it's because I scratched the serial numbers off of a fic that I wrote for another fandom.
> 
> written with love for CHS. y'all know who you are. xoxo


End file.
